Dead Weight
by drookit duck
Summary: Short story imagining the happenings of the vampires between Season 2's "What's My Line? (part 2)" and "Surprise".


Drusilla left the church, holding her broken lover in her arms with the ease that came with vampire super-strength. She was met by some of her surviving vampire flunkies.

"Bring the van." She instructed, "We need to be home before the sun comes to burn us." she looked down at Spike, shifting his weight in her arms and feeling some bones move with a sickening ease. "And fetch me a nice treat for Spike," she looked at the bespectacled vampire in front of her, "The kind that comes with wheels."

They reached the factory shortly before sunrise. Drusilla laid Spike's unconscious form on their bed, kissing his burned cheek tenderly.

"We found someone, as you asked." The other vampire said, bringing in a wheelchair with an unconscious human slumped in it.

"Goodie." Dru clapped, "Keep him fresh, now. I want it to be a nice surprise!" She waved the flunky away and began undressing Spike carefully. He mumbled something, but she shushed him, stroking his face softly. "Sleep now, my prince," she whispered, "You need your rest."

Spike came- to to find himself in him and Drusilla's bed. Dru wasn't around, but he saw one of their flunkies go rushing out of the room as he opened his eyes. The skin on his face felt tight and painful.

"Dru?" he said, but it came out as more of a groan. He made to sit up but he stopped as a sharp, serious-feeling pain shot through him. _"That's not good"_ he thought. He lifted the sheet covering him to find himself topless, but still wearing his black jeans. His legs felt strange. In fact, in horror, he realised the strangeness was a lack of any sensation at all! He gingerly ran a hand down his body, finding that as his hand reached his jeans the feeling stopped. He slowly lowered the sheet, closing his eyes. "Bollocks." He spat.

Drusilla made a cooing noise as she waltzed ethereally into the room, her arms outstretched towards him. "Spike, my love, you're awake!" she smiled, seating herself elegantly on the bed beside him.

Spike started to sit up again, prepared this time for the jolting agony. Dru tenderly slipped her arm under him, helping him.

"See you're feeling well again, pet" Spike said, trying not to sound too jealous.

"Oh yes," she smiled, "Me and Miss Edith are quite well again, now. Thanks to you, my darling. And, of course, Angel's little contribution." She grinned darkly, making a playful growling noise at the back of her throat. Spike smiled, he couldn't help it. He was happy to see her strong again. The feeling was fleeting, however, and the smile faded back to a serious look. "Dru, love, I can't feel my legs." he said soberly, "Can't even move my little bloody toe." He turned his face away from her, but she caught his chin in her hand and pulled him back to kiss him.

"Now we need to look after you" she said, suddenly serious as she stroked his wounded cheek. Spike caught her hand, gripping it firmly.

"I won't be out of the game for long, love" he promised. He paused, looking thoughtful, "O'course, not too keen on being bed-ridden."

Drusilla giggled, signalling to the waiting flunky at the door. The wheelchair was brought in, complete with the unconscious occupant.

"We arranged a little breakfast in bed," Dru laughed, "To help make you feel better."

The chair took some getting used to. Firstly, he hadn't been able to get into it himself without Drusilla's help. The bed was too high firstly, and his legs were useless. This infuriated him and he'd lost his temper, cursing and shouting. Now he was feeling bad for scolding her and Drusilla was away in a huff with her tarot cards and Miss Edith for company.

Alone now, except for a few nervous vampire minions who he'd warned to piss off, he was taking the chair through its paces. Or maybe it was taking him. It was easy to move around, now that he was in it, but simple things like picking up a t-shirt from the floor had proven difficult. He hoped the jarring pain in his spine would disappear soon because he couldn't even bend.

Enraged, he grabbed a trinket from the nearest reachable surface and went to launch it at a wall.

"Sir, that is Miss Drusilla's" one of the braver flunkies warned.

Spike closed his eyes and counted to two before launching the ornament instead at the flunky. The young vampire minion caught the trinket with a sigh of relief and placed it down on a higher surface out of his master's reach. Spike's rage was deadly, but now with him confined to the wheelchair the minions feared Drusilla's temper more.

"Could I possibly help you with your shirt?"

"You could get out of here before I bloody stake you" Spike growled, firing the chair backwards to face away and putting his head in his hands in despair. This was not how things were meant to be.

The flunky lifted the tee-shirt, and held it out to Spike. Spike looked at it reproachfully, before snatching it out the outstretched hand. He fired it on over his muscled torso trying not to flinch when the, now familiar, jolting pain ran up his spine. He scowled at the other vampire, demanding that he find his coat and began to roll the chair past him out to the main area of the factory.

Drusilla was scattering her tarot cards out into a complex shape.

"I'm sorry, love" Spike said carefully as he approached her, "I was upset. I'm a mean man." He said.

She pouted at him before turning back to her cards, "You were always a mean one." She said, "But bad fortune has come our way." She lifted a card and turned it to him, "And now it's the Slayer's turn."

Spike raised an eyebrow, intrigued, approaching closer, "Is that so? In what way?"

"Something's changing," Dru said merrily, "Something that will make her world turn all upside down!" she indicated the brevity of the situation with a flouncy hand gesture and a wicked smile.

Spike smiled back, "Well then, that makes me feel a lot better about being paralysed."

Dru wasn't listening; too busy conferring with her doll. Spike sighed, leaving her to it. But he hoped she was telling the truth. It was about time some bad luck went the Slayer's way instead of his. On his way past, he lifted a newspaper from the hands of one of his minions who was reading nearby and went back to his room.

Had he known that several days later he'd be not only joined by Angelus, who was restored to his old bad self, but all but cast aside by his lover, he'd have not been so keen to hear about Buffy's 'bad luck'. It turned out, even when it was Slayer's misfortune; it was still somehow also Spike's.

Aside from the Angelus' constant needling and Dru fawning all over her sire, the biggest issue was that he was stuck here. The useful exits from the factory were hardly wheelchair friendly and, despite starting to regain a little feeling in parts of his legs, he was still unable to stand. He'd just have to bide his time and let himself heal. But Spike had never been the patient sort, and he could feel himself slipping slowly into a grim and unhealthy mood.

He knew it was foolish to decline the food offered to him, after all he was reducing his own healing abilities, but he was too proud to let Drusilla feed him, especially in the mocking presence of Angelus. Unfortunately, Angelus appeared to be ever-present, ever-watchful and ever-keen to stick the proverbial knife in.

Presently, Spike's only escape was a small, unused room where he could get some peace. He was sitting with a newspaper and a box of cigarettes, whiling the time away when he became aware of his grandsire's presence.

"Don't bother pushing the chair, Angelus, I'm not in the mood" he warned, having grown used to being propelled suddenly forwards. He'd taken to not using the brake as the first time Angelus had tried this little trick it had toppled the chair, sprawling Spike onto the concrete. As well as a bruised ego and a bruised temple, Spike had been unceremoniously lifted back into the chair by Angelus and treated like an invalid. So, he'd stopped using the brake unless it was really necessary.

"Oh, Spike, my darling boy," Angelus said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "you wound me." He grabbed the chair's handle at Spike's shoulder, spinning him around to face him, "As if I would do such a thing!"

Spike glowered at him, calmly folding the newspaper and making sure to blow smoke right into Angelus' stupid face.

"What," Spike said, taking a final drag on the cigarette before discarding it, "do you want?" he asked.

Angelus sneered at him, "Just checking to see how our little trooper was doing" he said, "Don't want you thinking we don't care about you." He paused, "Of course, I _don't_ , but I wouldn't want to think you're in here all by yourself."

" _Piss_ off." Spike growled quietly.

Angelus grinned at him, "Is that any way to speak to your benefactor?"

Spike frowned, narrowing his eyes at his grandsire. "You are in _my_ home, Angelus. Or have you forgotten?" Angelus stood up, placing a hand on Spike's shoulder and gripping tight enough to hurt.

"I've decided to help you out around here, Spikey." Angelus continued, pushing the chair back out of the room, "No need to thank me. I know you need my help, what with your little _disability_ " he turned the last word into a stage whisper.

Spike set his jaw, biting back any sarcastic retort. It wasn't worth it. He knew that. But his rage was impotent. He wanted to jump up and violently beat Angelus down. But he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't strong enough yet. Instead he had to sit there silently and allow himself to be pushed back into the main room.

Angelus stopped pushing him. Spike looked up to see him embrace Drusilla, keeping eye contact to ensure that Spike knew this show was all for his benefit.

"Get your soddin' hands _off_ her." Spike growled.

"No," Angelus said with a wink, "I think I'll put my hands _all over_ her."

It had been more than twenty-four hours since he'd last fed, but Spike shut the door of the small room behind him and prepared himself for attempt three at standing. The first two attempts had been less than successful, but he hoped that this time he might actually be able to get up. He had been careful to keep his exercises secret, only taking the chance of exiting the chair when the others were out hunting. The shooting pains up his spine had ceased, and his feet had regained some feeling. His spine felt itchy and uncomfortable, but he _felt_ it and that was a huge step.

He grasped the armrests of the chair firmly, and began to put weight on his legs. They shook, but he felt steadier than he'd been. Feeling confident, he pushed up as quickly as he could; standing upright for a whole second before one hip buckled painfully and he fell over, landing on the floor. The chair, still behind him, skidded backwards. Spike swore, taking a second to rest before he began crawling towards the chair.

"Getting there, Spike," he told himself, "Getting there."

The door opened and Drusilla peered in. Evidently, they had returned for some reason.

"Oh, Spike" she said, whimsically, "You've found yourself toppled."

Spike stopped moving, turning his head to look at his dark goddess. "Uh, yeah." He said, "Funny story, fell out of the chair." He said lamely.

Dru knelt down, crawling catlike towards him and then lying beside him. "Poor Spike" she said, stroking a hand down his cheek, "We'll get you strong again." She promised.

"Dru, love." Spike said, pushing himself up to rest on his elbow, "I'll be back soon. I promise. Then we can leave this place." He stroked her hair, meeting her gaze in earnest, "We should leave now. Get out of this town. Just you and me,"

"What?" Drusilla said, "Leave Angelus?" she frowned at him, "Break up our happy family?"

"This is _not_ a happy family, love." Spike scowled, "You and me. That's all that matters."

Angelus cleared his throat from the doorway. They both turned; Dru smiling and Spike glowering. "What happened, Spike? You fall? Gotta be careful there. Don't want you getting hurt and end up living out your unlife in a wheelchair-" Angelus clapped a hand mockingly to his mouth, laughing before grabbing Spike roughly and dumping him back in the chair, "Oh, wait! That's already happened!"

Spike caught his grandsire's collar before he could pull away, "As soon as I get out of this chair, you better watch your back." He warned.

Angelus laughed, unhooking Spike's grip and then grabbing the younger vampire behind the neck. "You're in no position to threaten me, William." He said, "I could make this little injury permanent if you're not careful. Might be fun to see how feisty you'd be with your neck snapped here" he tightened his grip at the base of Spike's skull before relaxing it and stepping back.

Spike exhaled a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and rubbed the back of his neck, keeping a death glare aimed at his grandsire.

"Play nice, my boys," Drusilla chimed, "Makes the bitsies sad when you fight" she rolled onto her back, looking up at them both with a wicked grin, "Want to play, Angelus?"

Spike sighed, tossing the newspaper aside. He was bored and his attempts to stand were taking longer than anticipated. He hadn't left the factory in weeks and Angelus and Dru had taken to bringing him insulting titbits instead of actual meals. Puppies, kittens and rats. He was hungry and he was angry. Angelus' constant baiting was getting to him. Spike was too impatient for this. He was rash and impulsive and violent. Sitting about being useless wasn't his MO and it was getting him down.

When Drusilla had been ill, he'd looked after her. Now that he was stuck in this damn wheelchair she was looking after him and he was not enjoying the switch of roles. He couldn't live like this. Having her help him up, get dressed, bring him food. He needed to get out, clear his head. Get someone to eat to help him get his strength back… But the Slayer was out there. And he couldn't fight her like this. She'd have no qualms with dusting him, even if he was in a wheelchair. If he encountered her alone, he was as good as dead.

He'd just have to avoid her.

Drusilla stood from her seat at the table, "Dinnertime" she said breezily, walking over to Spike and setting herself gently on his lap. "Want to come with us tonight, Spike?"

Before Angelus had a chance to decline, Spike nodded, "You know what? I think a bit of fresh air would do me the world of good."

Angelus' gaze darkened, "He'll slow us down, Dru." He warned.

"I think it would be fun." Dru said, "Like old times"

"Yeah," Spike chimed in, "Fun! Come on, Angelus. Where's your sense of adventure?"

Angelus growled, turning on his heel and storming up the stairs towards the exit. Drusilla signalled to the vampire servants to help Spike to the door. Although not the smoothest of exits, Spike made do. At least he would be able to get a decent meal.

Outside, Drusilla pushed the chair and they caught up with Angelus. Scowling, Angelus stopped the chair with a foot and leaned down face level with the younger vampire. "Don't mess this up." He said, "You are dead weight here, Spike."

Spike pushed him back, "Get out of my face" he said, "We'll see who's dead weight."

Angelus laughed, punching Spike a little harder than playfully on the shoulder before setting off towards the town centre.

"I can push myself, Dru," Spike said, irritably, propelling the chair forwards himself. Drusilla let go, then wandered off ahead after Angelus.

Their scent lead Spike to a small restaurant in a back lane. He hadn't been out of the lair for a few weeks, but it was strange to him to find somewhere he hadn't noticed before. There were thankfully no stairs so he rolled the chair in, taking note of the 'welcome' mat at the door as it granted him entry.

He spotted his sire and grandsire upon entering, seated at a table in the back. A waitress approached him but he waved her away, indicating the table where the other vampires sat. He moved over to them, noting that it was a two seater table with no third setting.

Angelus waved at the staff and the waitress brought over an extra set of cutlery and a wine glass. Angelus put his hand over the glass before she could pour it, "He shouldn't." he said, giving Spike a pitying look, "Not with your medication, Spikey."

Spike narrowed his eyes at his elder, folding his arms, "To hell with the medication," he said. "This is a celebration. Think I'll drink _whatever_ I want."

The waitress hovered, unsure of what to do. Spike snatched the bottle from her hand and poured his own, rather large share, of the wine. He lifted his glass in a mock toast, "To family" he said sarcastically, taking a gulp of the wine. "Hmm, this is pretty good." He smirked at Angelus, "Your choice, I presume. You always were the poncy wine lover." He took another sip, sticking his pinky up. He stopped, putting down the glass, "You know, it's good, but it's not what I want."

"Spike" Angelus warned with a growl, "Lower your tone."

"Or what?" the blonde snapped. He drained the glass and thumped it onto the table, "Don't you think they're going to suspect something when the three of us fail to order any _food_ in this restaurant?" he made to grab the rest of the bottle, but Angelus snatched it away.

"You always have to be the centre of attention, Spike." Angelus snarled, "You lack finesse." He stood, smashing the bottle off of the table and using it to stab the nearest human at the next table. Drusilla stood, appearing quickly at the door in her vampire visage, locking the bolt. She grinned a pointed smile at the shrieking diners.

There was screaming and panic in the small restaurant. The chefs and kitchen staff had ran through to see what was happening. Angelus and Drusilla both grabbed victim after victim, making their way through the small gathering of humans quickly. Not even draining most of them. Angelus snapped several necks, tossing the lifeless humans aside. Drusilla was happily causing chaos at the front of the restaurant, patterning the windows with blood as she slashed her way through the crowd.

Spike had taken the opportunity to grab the pretty waitress from earlier as she stood screaming in the middle of the throng. She looked at him, momentarily quiet as she tried to work out which side he was on, but she let out a blood-curdling screech as he morphed into his vampire face. "Oh, do scream, love." He said, "I've missed the screaming." He sunk his fangs into her neck, relishing the nectar of her blood. Unlike his compatriots, he took his time, draining the waitress and then letting her lifeless body fall from his lap as he closed his eyes, enjoying the buzz of the energy flowing through him. He opened his eyes, to find everyone dead and Drusilla and Angelus, blood drenched in the middle of the carnage.

"Oh, Spike!" Drusilla said, clasping her bloodied hands together gleefully, "You're glowing!"

Spike wiped his face with back of his hand and lifted a surviving wine glass from one of the tables, taking a sip, "Dead weight like hell".

"One waitress?" Angelus laughed, "Hardly."

"Gotta start somewhere, Angelus. She was a nummy treat." Spike snapped, "I can feel myself healing up as we speak." He cracked his neck then pushed the chair towards the door, "Let's get out of here before little Betty the vampire slayer catches wind of us."

Angelus rolled his eyes and stormed past Spike, slapping him on the back of the head as he went by. Spike smirked, pleased to have finally annoyed the big lug, and feeling pretty good after his first proper meal in weeks. They left, Drusilla pushing Spike towards home and Angelus stalking off alone to go torment his ex in new and exotic ways.

End


End file.
